


Father of Nations

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Demons, Gen, Ineffable Plan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-08
Updated: 2005-02-08
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale keep having dealings with the same family.





	Father of Nations

Aziraphale and Crowley had both had dealings with the family over the years. It was the sort of family that seemed to attract supernatural visitors. Aziraphale sometimes mused about this, wondering if certain mortals had some sort of natural angel - and demon, of course - attracting capabilities. Crowley had suggested it was all down to pheremones, but as neither he nor Aziraphale were altogether sure what pheremones _were_ he found he couldn’t convince the angel of this theory. Be that as it may, neither of them could keep away for long.

Crowley made first contact. He had strolled through the desert, having indulged so mightily in the fleshpots of Egypt that he felt he was in danger of putting on an ounce or two. A bit of exercise was just what he needed, so he had decided to walk to Canaan and back. It was getting a bit boring, so he was rather glad to find company when he stopped at a spring at the border.

"Evening," he said, and made a _it's too hot to move, stop worrying_ gesture at the girl as she pulled her veil tight around her face. "Nice weather we're having," he said. "Hot and sunny. Of course, it's usually hot and sunny, maybe you’d prefer a spot of rain."

She continued to say nothing, so he gave her his best smile. It wasn't a very reassuring one, but it was his best.

"What's your name? Come on, I don't bite."

"Hagar."

"Hello, Hagar, I'm Crowley. Where are you going?"

"Egypt."

"It's a long way, especially for a pretty girl on her own. I thi-- hey! Put down the stone, I was just passing a remark!"

He threw himself aside as she tried to bash his skull in again, and jumped up to catch her hand.

"This is a civilised conversation, girl, not the prelude to rape! Don't be so suspicious -- oh. Sorry."

She pulled the veil over her face again, hiding the cuts and bruises. He looked closer. She was pregnant. Not very far gone, but definitely pregnant. He shoved her sleeve up, noting the bruises went all the way up her arm. Sometimes he really detested humans.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "I'm sorry those bastards did. Tell you what, I'm in a chivalrously outraged mood. You point me in their direction, and I'll go and chop their goolies off."

"It was my mistress," she said, in a sullen Egyptian accent. "She thought I was putting on airs."

"So she beat you up? When you're pregnant? Er, you know you're pregnant, right?"

"That's why she thought I was putting on airs, because her husband had got me pregnant. When she handed me to him in the first place!"

Crowley was very, very glad he wasn't a slave. He peered at her carefully. There was something about her; she smelled of destiny. What sort of destiny, he wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that anyone like that needed a guiding hand, and preferably one that wouldn't involve him having to follow her around. She needed a place to live, to deliver the baby, and while it was a bit callous, her nearest shelter was probably exactly what she was running from.

"It's a long way to Egypt," he said mildly. "You'd have a hard time getting there. If you take my advice you'll go back to your mistress. I can make it so she won't hit you again, and I'll promise you your child won't be a slave. How about that?"

"I'll take my chances on the road to Egypt," she said.

"How about I promise you a son, and that you and he'll be free and no one will ever succeed in enslaving either of you again? You could call him Ishmael, seeing as you got me in a mood willing to listen."

"How can you promise me anything?" she asked.

Crowley let the light flare round him dramatically and vanished from her sight. It was a cheap trick, but one that tended to impress the people hereabouts. She shrieked and pressed her face into the sand and promised to obey him. As a token of goodwill he got rid of her intestinal worms and healed the baby's heart murmur. Then, convinced he'd done the absolute minimum needed in case anyone ever checked up on this, he went on his way, and forgot about her completely.

 

* * *

 

Aziraphale trudged through the incredible heat, wishing he'd had the sense to wear a hat. Or suncream. Were humans _ever_ going to get around to inventing suncream, he wondered. Finally, seeing as no one seemed to be looking, he decided to save a bit of time and effort, and merely appeared several miles away at his destination. He hung round, feeling slightly guilty, but the heavens didn't open, nor did he get a reprimand, so he felt sure he'd got away with it.

"Abraham!" he said, appearing suddenly beside the man.

"Argh!" Abraham said, falling full-length in the dust.

"Sorry, sorry," Aziraphale said, helping him to his feet. "I have a message for you, Abraham. I'm sorry I didn't get round to you before, but I've been terribly busy, you know how it is. Anyway: all of this land is yours, and you shall have a son."

"I _have_ a son," Abraham said querulously. "He's a fine strapping boy."

"Oh. Well that's good," Aziraphale said, wishing he hadn't bothered.

"Ishmael! Come here and let the angel see you!" Abraham called.

"Ishmael?" Aziraphale said, checking his notes as what was indeed a fine, strapping child ran up. "Er. I think something's gone just a teensy bit wrong. Hello, dear boy. Bless you. Now, run along, your father and I have something important to discuss."

When the boy was out of earshot Aziraphale lowered his voice and muttered, "Isaac. It’s supposed to be Isaac. Did Sarah change her mind about the name?"

" _Sarah?_ His mother's Hagar. Sarah's maid."

Aziraphale smiled pleasantly. Angels did not swear. Perhaps he shouldn't have put the errand off for so long.

"Well, then I have some good news," he said brightly. "You're going to have _another_ son. Sarah will have him in about nine months time."

Abraham wheezed alarmingly. It took some time before Aziraphale stopped trying to heal the heart attack and admitted to himself the old codger was laughing.

"I'm _a hundred years old!_ " Abraham wheezed. "Sarah's _ninety!_ We haven't done the how's-your-father for about --"

"That's more than enough information, thank you," Aziraphale said icily.

"Sarah! There's an angel out here who says you're going to get pregnant!"

Laughter came from inside the tent.

"He can raise the dead, can he?"

"As a matter of fact, madam, I can," Aziraphale said in what he hoped was a dignified tone but was prepared to admit was probably somewhat snippy. As she peeped through the doorway he indulged in one of Crowley's little tricks and showed a flash of a full-body halo. The head vanished back inside quickly. "I _am_ an angel, you _are_ going to have a baby, and _you_ ," he said to Abraham, "can start being, er, romantic with your beloved wife. Right now. Go on, I'll wait."

He stood tapping his foot in the dust until he was sure everything was running to plan, then took himself off for a well-deserved drink. Unfortunately for him, the nearest pub was in a town called Sodom, and his visit proved to be far more exciting than he really wanted.

 

* * *

 

Crowley found the girl in the desert again. She wasn't as young, and she wasn't as pretty, and she was very clearly dying. He bent down and turned her face out of the sand so that she could breathe a little easier.

"Hello again," he said. "What did I tell you about deserts being hard on pretty girls?"

He pulled her into a sitting position, and wrapped her veil around her head to protect her from the sun.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"They threw us out," she whispered through cracked, dry lips. "He gave me one skin of water and my mistress threw us out."

"Us?" Crowley said. Oh yes, he'd promised her a son. He wondered if she'd had one.

"You said we'd be free," she said, recognising him at last. "We are. I don't want to see him die. Kill me, don't let me see him die."

"Wait here," Crowley said, cringing even as he said it. Where was she going to go? He followed her uneven footsteps back over the sand till he found a solitary thorn bush. A boy, gone gangly with teenage growth lay in its pitiful shade. Crowley gagged at the smell and waved a hand hurriedly at the nasty oozing wound on his foot. How the poor sod had walked into the desert at all was beyond him. He bent and picked up the empty waterskin, shaking his head. _Humans_ , he thought, picturing a small, malnourished woman supporting her son till she found some shade, and leaving him the water while she went off to die. Her boy had a whiff of destiny about him, just as his mother had had all those years ago. It wasn't much, and it was fading with his life, but it was more than enough to interest Crowley.

"Up we get," he said, hauling the boy to his newly healed feet. "Your mother's waiting, sunshine."

By the time he reached Hagar she had fallen over again. He dumped her boy beside her and shook her awake. The scent of destiny was getting stronger.

"Hey," he said. "There's something interesting about you. I don't know if it's interesting for my people or the angel's people, but either way you're in luck. I suppose I'd better keep that promise I made, huh?" He made sure she was watching and struck a dramatic pose.

"Arise, Hagar, take up thy son, and hold him fast in thine hand. For he will be a great nation and shall dwell over against all his rotten, abandoning-people-in-the-desert kinsmen."

He stamped his foot and listened to her gasps of praise as ice-cold water welled up. She and her son drank until he thought they'd burst, while he clandestinely created a bag filled with bread. It wouldn't run out for at least a week. _No, better make it two_ , he thought.

While they were eating he slipped away. He felt vaguely unsettled by the whole affair, as if he'd been found doing good. He decided to forget about it. He was dying for a lemongrass daquiri, and was luckily only a few days from a pub that made the best cocktails he'd ever tasted.

Besides, he thought as he started out on the road to Gomorrah, like the angel said, he probably wasn't capable of doing good.

 

* * * * *

 

_Genesis 16_

Now Sar'ai, Abram's wife, bore him no children. She had an Egyptian maid whose name was Hagar; and Sar'ai said to Abram, "Behold now, the LORD has prevented me from bearing children; go in to my maid; it may be that I shall obtain children by her." And Abram hearkened to the voice of Sar'ai. So, after Abram had dwelt ten years in the land of Canaan, Sar'ai, Abram's wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her maid, and gave her to Abram her husband as a wife.  
And he went in to Hagar, and she conceived; and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked with contempt on her mistress. And Sar'ai said to Abram, "May the wrong done to me be on you! I gave my maid to your embrace, and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked on me with contempt. May the LORD judge between you and me!" But Abram said to Sar'ai, "Behold, your maid is in your power; do to her as you please." Then Sar'ai dealt harshly with her, and she fled from her.  
The angel of the LORD found her by a spring of water in the wilderness, the spring on the way to Shur. And he said, "Hagar, maid of Sar'ai, where have you come from and where are you going?" She said, "I am fleeing from my mistress Sar'ai." The angel of the LORD said to her, "Return to your mistress, and submit to her." The angel of the LORD also said to her, "I will so greatly multiply your descendants that they cannot be numbered for multitude." And the angel of the LORD said to her, "Behold, you are with child, and shall bear a son; you shall call his name Ish'mael; because the LORD has given heed to your affliction. He shall be a wild ass of a man, his hand against every man and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell over against all his kinsmen." So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, "Thou art a God of seeing"; for she said, "Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?" Therefore the well was called Beer-la'hai-roi; it lies between Kadesh and Bered.  
And Hagar bore Abram a son; and Abram called the name of his son, whom Hagar bore, Ish'mael. Abram was eighty-six years old when Hagar bore Ish'mael to Abram. 


End file.
